The ET's aren't coming--they destroyed their own planet a couple millenia ago

​Some scientists are saying that there is a good argument to be made that human beings are the only intelligent life form in the universe, which is leading other people to think “The universe ought to be pretty well ashamed of itself, then.”

These researchers are not just ego-tripping—they point out that if civilizations way older than ours existed they would have started broadcasting radio signals into space thousands of years ago, and we would certainly be able to tune in to advanced alien versions of Dr. Pimple Popper and My 600 Pound Alien Life, were any being produced.

We can’t, though, and there’s a deeper reason for that other than the fact that 600 pounds might be a perfectly average weight for an advanced alien. That reason is called the Fermi Paradox. The FP, briefly summarized, is that any beings advanced enough to invent technology will eventually destroy themselves, going extinct or at least degenerating into packs of leather-clad savages chasing each other around the barren landscape in dune buggies armed with machine guns.

The Fermi Paradox is named after Enrico Fermi, who after developing this theory that we are all eventually doomed, invented the atomic bomb to assist the process. You can’t make this stuff up.

Anyway, the paradox states that any critters smart enough to discover how to use fire will eventually cease to exist, nuking or global-warming themselves out of existence. Just consider the human race—you’ll nod and say, “Hell, yeah, we could do that.”

That’s what happened to any alien civilization that developed before us. They grew wealthy and populous, dominating their planet, sucking up all its resources while sitting around eating salty snacks and watching reality TV, until they started a world war with hydrogen bombs, cooked themselves in their own swill, or invented Terminators. All those alien signals from Too Many Tentacles for the Dress and Housewives of Arcturus swept past the Earth years ago, while our ancestors were sitting in prehistoric mud, and are heading out to the other galaxies, where other life-forms will blow themselves up before they can receive them.

The aliens don't exist then, at least contemporaneously. Many people will be disappointed by this, especially people that make aliens the centerpiece of science fiction features or who have been kidnapped by them.

But the Fermi Paradox can now be summed up much more succinctly, and Orwellianly. How about this?

We’re going to have a Space Force now, according to Trump. These fighting men and women, despite working for a branch of the service that sounds like the name of a turgid cartoon show targeted at the 12 and under male demographic, are going to protect us in space.

Protect us from what? we can hear you say. Space is mostly a vacuum, occasionally interrupted by satellites, bolts that come loose from satellites, the Sweet Meteor of Doom and the phantom planet Niburu. None of these are natural targets for the Space Force.

But don’t say the Space Force is stupid yet, or at least as stupid as having a military parade clog up the streets of DC. Enemies lurk in space. Some of them you may have forgotten about. We’re here to refresh your memory.

Alien Anal Probers—They’re coming back, and they ain’t bringing any lube. The Space Force will be charged with protecting the rectal integrity of every redneck sleeping off a drunk in the back of a pickup truck all across this great nation. It will be up to the SF to keep these intergalactic proctologists at bay.

Ancient Astronauts—Real estate on Earth is a lot pricier than it was six thousand years ago, and we don’t need these guys returning and snatching up huge gobs of it to put up their pyramids or Nazca figures. The Space Force will stand guard over our strip malls and used car lots.

Martians of any ilk—Face it, the Martians are probably sore about us sending an array of orbiters and rovers to spy on their planet. They regard us as the Peeping Toms of the solar system, possibly quite rightly, and we need the Space Force to stand between us and them coming to roust us out of the bushes underneath their teenage daughter’s bedroom.

Guardians of the Galaxy—Sure, one of them was born here, but if he ever tries to return with the bunch of space aliens he pals around with currently, he’s an alien smuggler, pure and simple. The Space Force Border Patrol will make sure his rocket ship full of brown, green, blue and mauve people doesn’t try and immigrate here.

ET—Not at first glance a danger, with his glowing fingertip that heals everything, but think what havoc he could wreak on the American healthcare system, as people line up to get cured without copays, deductibles, or referrals to a specialist. Why not just put him to work for an HMO, you say? Three words—obvious diversity hire.

Aliens—These individuals present daunting challenges for even the bravest members of the Space Force. Volunteering for combat against them could easily end up with the volunteer becoming the unwilling repository for their eggs, eventually coughing up a newborn slimy critter in his or her death throes.

Think about that before you sign up. The Coast Guard looks better all the time, right?

​What’s been made clear in the last couple of weeks is that if there are aliens out there, they are pretty keen to avoid us.

An object flying through the solar system from interstellar space, called Oumuamua, has been suspected of being an alien spacecraft instead of a stray asteroid, because it is cigar-shaped, like a spaceship (Also like a zeppelin, a submarine, a cheesesteak, or, let’s face it, a cigar). But nobody suspects it of being A Giant Stogie from Beyond, because we are scanning it for signs of alien life.

And we are not finding any, but that, according to some thinkers, is not enough to rule out Oumuamua from being a space vessel crammed full of aliens. These people think that the aliens aboard the thing have gone silent, even turning off their cell phones, so we don’t figure out what they are up to. They are like the crew of a U-boat, keeping deadly quiet to keep sonar from pinging them, until one fat Nazi drops a wrench on the floor and they get the shit depth-charged out of them. We’ve all seen that movie.

This assumes that the aliens are afraid of being attacked by us. Why they would be, nobody knows, except maybe they know humans have always attacked anything they ran across, most especially each other, and the aliens may just be exhibiting an abundance of caution, figuring that if we knew they existed, we would start a crash program to build a ship faster than theirs, with the express purpose of catching them and blowing them into stardust.

In the meantime, the Oumuamuans are heading out to the stars at 190,000 or so miles an hour, which, to put it in more comprehensible terms, is disappearing nearly as fast as a friend who owes you money.

You can’t blame them for that, though. Assuming aliens would make contact peacefully, which is a possibility as long as they land anywhere on Earth outside of the southern United States, what are they going to do with us? There are only a couple of conceivable outcomes. One, they could attempt to raise us to be an advanced star-faring civilization like they are, staying chill for century upon century while exploring the galaxy. This would be a crap-ton of work for them, considering most of us can barely sit still on an airplane for a few hours without at least a bag of nuts and a cocktail.

Secondly, they could conquer us and make us their slaves. This might have been a good idea a hundred years ago, when people used to work, but now that most of us just share pictures of our genitals via smartphone and consider that an accomplishment, turning us into productive forced labor probably wouldn’t be worth the effort.

Thirdly, they could exterminate us and take over the Earth. It’s probably more cost-effective for them to let us exterminate ourselves, however, which seems more likely by the day, and move into the vacant property.

Science marches on, and it takes no prisoners. Just recently I wrote here that space scientists needed to get off their asses and invent a warp drive so people could cruise around in space faster. No sooner had I written that than it was done. The EM drive, a kind of cordless microwave oven that pushes itself through space, was demonstrated by NASA to have generated a force of 1.2 millinewtons of thrust in a field test.

There are two important things to note here: First, the EM drive works by breaking the laws of physics. That makes sense, since we all already knew that breaking the laws of traffic enables us to get places faster. The second is that 1.2 millinewtons of thrust is approximately the same force felt by a banana when a fruit fly lands on it, so not really a crap-ton of boost power. Scientists are nonetheless confident that they can beef up the EM drive so that eventually, it can take us to Mars before all the astronaut bananas on board turn black.

Since this is the age of Trump and I called for this, I take full credit for the invention. This column will adopt Trumpian principles in the New Year—whenever I’m right about something, I will unabashedly bask in glory, and when I am wrong, it’s the fault of the media.

Not so, say space junk alarmists, and to convince you of the truth of their argument, they have arranged for you to be Tweeted at by space junk as it orbits overhead. What the Tweets consist of I don’t know, but probably they are very scientific, something like: Yo, I’m zooming over your noggin at about 17,000 mph again, and I’m going to keep coming back until my orbit decays and I burn up harmlessly in the atmosphere.

That might be over 140 characters, but you get the idea. Kind of boring. If we’re going to communicate with space junk, let’s give it a little more personality. Maybe even a variety of personalities. Here’s a couple of suggestions:

PSYCHOPATHIC: What comes around, goes around, and around, and around. F*ck you all. I can’t wait to smash into some space-walker’s helmet.

SUICIDAL: Just a couple million more orbits, and I can meet my fiery end. But you don’t care now and you won’t care then, and there’s nothing I can do to make you. I feel so helpless.

FRAT BOY: Heading out to the Van Allen Belt for the weekend, bro. That’s where I go to rage.

SEX KITTEN: I’m right on top of you again. I’m orbiting you hard and fast. I know you like it that way.

That’s more like it! If you’re going to be Tweeted at by random outer space crap, let’s make it interesting. Because if you are even considering signing up for this program, there’s one thing that’s certain about you.​You are way too bored already.